by CK Dawn
“Don’t get me wrong, I loved getting an apology from the man who called me the castle bastard throughout my stay here, but he presents a major liability now. Did he get smashed in the head?” the young man asked.
Ryen shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head to the side. “No one knows precisely what happened. Must have been a dream that spooked him.”
“What’s the Close Council doing about this?”
His uncle said, “Nothing. We’ve managed to hide the King from them, but they are growing restless. This secret has stayed among the inner family. We have told everyone else that the King is very ill. Going from tyrant to all forgiving makes him feel like a better man, yet the realm is in need of a strong ruler right now. A man named Jasper Colbert has just usurped Mattingly.”
Ali-Samuel smiled. “Are you saying what I think you are? You’re going to make a power move.”
Ryen laughed. “No, my nephew, I have no desire to rule. Ali-Stanley is already licking his chops to take over. He turned on his father as quickly as he turned on Ali-Steven. My father was a cruel man for a very long time. He committed atrocious acts that a few words of apology can’t erase. He was normally most venomous to those closest to him. You, me, Ali-Stanley and Tersen took the brunt of the abuse. Ali-Stanley’s already demanded our father be relieved of his duties so he can be crowned. He has the craftsmen measuring his head so they can start resizing the crowns.”
“Of course he has. He’s probably afraid the King might come to his senses and name you as the rightful heir to Donegal. You deserve it if not for a small tantrum back when you were twelve.”
Ryen scoffed, “Ha, I want nothing of it, I’ve told you that many times. I will always assist the realm in any capacity as a humble servant but never as king. It doesn’t interest me in the least. We will have to build a strong council around Ali-Stanley, whom everyone knows to be weak. It’s a dangerous combination. He wanted to make Tersen his Falconer if he took over and we quickly squashed that idea. He’s not going to have a free run at everything like our father did. Everything Ali-Stanley has been taught about how to rule a realm is wrong. We need a council with noble intentions, but also the knowledge to implement the policies properly.”
Ali-Samuel chuckled. “Do men like that exist in the Capitol?”
“There are a few left in the realm and much fewer around here, so the search won’t be easy. Ali-Stanley better hope our father doesn’t break out of his madness and find out all the plotting his son has been doing,” Ryen told him.
Ali-Samuel shook his head. “Did not expect to come back to this. So you were just using the knighting as an excuse to bring me back?”
“Oh no, you are to be knighted with a grand feast scheduled to take place afterward. Ali-Stanley pushed for Ali-Varis to be included in the ceremony, but the family wouldn’t allow it. The consensus was that knighting Ali-Varis would make a mockery of the honor, which of course, it most certainly would. If Ali-Stanley takes over, Ali-Varis Wamhoff becomes the most dangerous man in the realm. One foul fever and our long-standing family reign could be washed aside. That simpleton as heir may be the scariest proposition the kingdom has ever faced,” his uncle told him.
Ali-Varis was Ali-Stanley’s son. He seemed lost and disinterested in meetings. He had been known to go into fits of rage and needed to be detained by several knights. The teenager had the education level of a three-year-old, but possessed incredible strength.
“Do I still have my quarters, or have they been donated to the poor?” Ali-Samuel asked.
“Your quarters should be exactly how you left them. Go ahead and settle in. I know this gives you much to think about.”
“Much and more, my uncle,” Ali-Samuel said.
He headed for the east end of the castle. He passed the Fox’s Den and thought about stopping in for a quick meal when he suddenly heard the voices of Ali-Stanley and Tersen. He peeked in and saw the two men eating with Ali-Varis Wamhoff.
He stood next to the half-open side door outside and listened.
Ali-Stanley said, “All you have to do is pour this into the goblet. He will trust anything right now. You could probably do it right in front of him.”
Tersen sniffled, “But I’m scared. Why don’t you do it?”
“Because everyone will suspect me, and you know that. It’s your chance to finally serve the kingdom,” Ali-Stanley said sternly.
Ali-Samuel decided to skip the meal and avoid contact with his uncles so he proceeded to his chambers. He walked inside and immediately went for the trunk in the corner of his plain room. He lifted the knotted oak lid and riffled through the various items until he found the piece of rolled parchment.
He walked over to a small table, unrolled the paper and weighed down the top and bottom with two small knives from his belt. He opened the trunk again and grabbed a pheasant feather, found a fresh inkwell on a small wooden stand and rushed back to the table. He dipped in the tip of the quill and crossed off the name of Sir Willem. Six names had been eliminated and only one remained. Seven men had been involved with his mother’s murder and he had thought that killing all of them would clear his mind of the matter.
That hadn’t worked so far, but he hoped completing the list would satisfy his vengeful soul. Sir Arthur was the last name on the list, and he was still a member of the King’s Guard. Ali-Samuel had been told by several people that he also raped his mother after her throat had been slit. Ali-Samuel planned to scratch his name off soon. He made sure the ink was dry and rolled the parchment up before stuffing it into the bottom of the trunk.
A week later, Sir Ali-Samuel Wamhoff woke up with a hunger for two things. He wanted some rashers of bacon, poached eggs and lard-soaked wheat bread served with a heaping scoop of revenge. He had discreetly followed Sir Arthur for the past seven days and found out the man had a daily routine. If Arthur carried out the same pattern today, Ali-Samuel planned to get his vengeance.
Later that day, he went to cut through the Princess Hall and stopped when he heard voices.
The King said, “I am so sorry I treated you the way that I did. All of the Gods’ creatures are beautiful. I see it so clearly now.”
Tersen responded, “You’ve already apologized over a thousand times. You can stop already. Drink some of your water now, father.”
Ali-Samuel heard a slurping sound and the King said, “Alright, my son. Are you going to help me give the kingdom to the poor?”
Tersen answered, “I’ll help you with the kingdom. I’m helping our kingdom right now. Drink the rest of that. Count Silzeus said you need your liquids.”
Ali-Samuel walked around the hall and thought about the strange conversation between Tersen and the King. He went to stalk the tavern that Sir Arthur liked to frequent around mid-day. He waited longer than usual, which was fine for Ali-Samuel. He knew Arthur would be good and drunk today.
The staggering man emerged from the tavern and shielded his eyes from the sun. The big man steadied himself beside his horse and jumped on his mount. He headed north like he normally did to collect tributes from Lord Wendell at the northern markets.
The knight of the King’s Guard went straight to the markets to get the gold for the King. On the way back to the castle, Sir Arthur veered off the narrow path and went into the thicker part of the woods. Ali-Samuel was betting on Arthur’s greed and his hunch was vindicated. His nemesis got down from his horse and tied the reins to a tree branch. As the knight tried to take some of the gold from the pouches, he dropped one in the dirt.
Ali-Samuel raced through the brush toward the man’s back and as he turned around, Ali-Samuel raised his sword and came down with a mighty stroke. The big man of the King’s Guard raised his hands in defense, but the blade went right through his arms and almost split his head in two. Blood sprayed all over Ali-Samuel’s white stallion and Sir Arthur collapsed to the ground.
He stared at the man who had been a name on his parchment list for seven years. The final name that had constantly reminded
him of his mother’s death could be crossed off. He felt hollow again and only thought about his faceless mother. Ali-Samuel had always tried to picture his mother’s face from the descriptions Ryen had given him, but he never could for some reason. He stared up to the heavens.
I got them for you. I got all seven for you, yet you’re still gone and I never even knew you. Just that same feeling of remembering how you were wronged. That’s all I can feel. Why can’t I feel real emotions?
He grabbed the gold pouches to make it look like a theft and rode to a nearby stream. He washed the blood off his horse and went back to the King’s Castle. He walked toward his quarters and saw the King stumbling out of the Princess Hall holding his stomach and groaning in pain. The Privy Master, Hermenn Roastear, and several guards came out of the hall after the king.
They followed Ali-Baster, who appeared to be rushing for the chamber pot. Ali-Samuel went into his room and went for the trunk.
He grabbed the paper and kept it rolled up. He didn’t want to open it and cross the last name out. He just wanted to forget about the ordeal that he had spent his entire life working on. He walked over to a lit candle and extended the paper.
The parchment quickly took to the flame and Ali-Samuel stared as the paper burned in his hand. This was supposed to be a triumphant moment, but only a hollow feeling persisted. He couldn’t take his eyes off the blaze until it burnt his hand and he dropped it. He watched as the completed list finally burned out and a breeze from the open window scattered the ashes around the room. He sat down in a chair to think.
Several minutes later, seven bells rang in succession. The hour was nowhere near seven at night and Ali-Samuel knew what those bells meant.
They’re going to blame me. Tersen and Ali-Samuel have played me for a fool to use me to acquire the realm. Why not accuse the bastard of the castle? Only Ryen would stand up for me and he’s powerless against a king. I better get down there before it’s too late.
A loud thumping rocked the door on its hinges. He checked his beltline to see how many knives he had. It wasn’t enough. If more than five men entered his room, he would be instantly dead. He looked out the window to see if that was a viable option. The possible two-story drop took away that plan and he decided he’d fight his way out.
He slowly slid up the privacy slot. A smile came across his face as he saw his Uncle Ryen’s face outside. He quickly unlatched the lock and opened the door.
“Get in here, quick.”
Ryen entered and closed the door behind him.
Ali-Samuel said, “I’ve overheard some shady dealings in the past few days that would explain a lot. I think Tersen and Ali-Stanley conspired together to kill the King and they are prepared to blame me.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me. Let’s get down there before they get into everyone’s ears.”
The hallways were crowded with the castle dwellers trying to figure out what had happened to the King. Ryen and Ali-Samuel shoved their way through a mass of people and ran down a hallway before being confronted by a wall of armored guards. Two men parted and let the Wamhoff men through. Sir Gerald and Sir Galroy were carrying the bloated body of King Ali-Baster down the hall. The puffy blue skin looked like it was about to explode as the guards struggled with the King’s weight.
Ryen ordered, “Stop right now. What are you doing with our King?”
Sir Galroy tried to whisper but his husky voice wouldn’t quite acquiesce. “He died in the privy. We’re getting him to his bed before too many people find out. Unless you’d like us to put him somewhere else?”
Ryen said, “No. Carry on.”
Count Silzeus emerged from behind the guards and acknowledged Ali-Samuel and Ryen.
He approached and said, “My lords, I would like a few words with both of you.”
Ali-Samuel wasn’t a lord, but Count Silzeus always addressed him as one and told him to act the same. They veered into a small room and the Count sat down while the Wamhoff men kept standing.
The Count caught his breath and said, “It pains me to say, but I think our King was poisoned.”
Ali-Samuel asked, “What makes you say that?”
Count Silzeus spoke in a firm tone. “I still have to inspect the body more, but there are two tell-tale signs of poisoning that our King is showing. A severely swollen body and white-spotted tongue and black splotches that resemble bruises behind the ears. Ali-Stanley has already sworn me to start telling everyone that the King died on the throne.”
Ryen reassured the Count, “I’ll talk to my brother. We need to find out the truth.”
Count Silzeus pulled himself up and said, “The rest of your family is in the Fox’s Den. Excuse me. I need to tend to the body before Ali-Stanley disposes of it.”
“Of course,” Ryen said and the three men parted ways.
Ali-Samuel and his uncle made it to the grand hall to hear Ali-Stanley and Tersen wailing as they held their respective spouses.
He turned to his uncle and whispered, “Do you think we are the only ones who can tell that crying isn’t genuine?”
Ryen responded, “I’ve heard moaning whores that were more convincing than that.”
“All hail the King of the Blind,” joked Ali-Samuel.
He quickly composed himself remembering the situation.
People were swarming around Ali-Stanley and Tersen and sharing sympathy for the bawling brothers. Ryen excused himself to join his wife, and Ali-Samuel stood alone. It brought back the perpetual feeling he had felt his entire life, surrounded by family, yet so alone.
He noticed the Captain of the King’s Guard approaching Ali-Stanley. The tower of a man pulled his sword and the new King jumped back. Sir Antwelle held his sword on two open hands and knelt down. Ali-Samuel couldn’t hear due to the distance and chattering in the hall, but he knew that Ali-Stanley had just secured the official backing of the King’s Guard.
Ali-Samuel started to feel ill as the Lord Commander of the Royal Forces lumbered up to Ali-Stanley. He kneeled and presented his sword, effectively pledging the backing of all royal forces. The Lord Commander was the only man who outranked field generals. The new King had attained the support of the two most important entities necessary for holding supreme power. He now had authorization to do whatever he pleased without worry only minutes after his father’s untimely death.
This must have been planned for a while. He’s already consolidated all the power in the realm and the body isn’t even cold yet. I can’t believe these people don’t see it. What a performance.
Two days later, Ali-Samuel was on his way to a Close Council meeting and noticed Tersen and his wife, Alvyra, arguing with their backs turned to him. He quietly sneaked up, hid behind a column and eavesdropped.
Tersen said, “I can’t do it again. I’m already racked with guilt from the first one.”
Alvyra quietly berated him, “Are you a man? We are so close right now. You have to do this. Do it for me. Do it for us.”
Tersen told her, “I’m scared. I don’t think I can do it.”
Alvyra insisted, “You will do it, now take this from me and go eat with him. Now.”
Ali-Samuel backed away and turned a corner in the hallway without the couple noticing. He sat down at the first meeting for the new King. A hastened coronation had taken place the previous day and all the powerful lords around the Capitol swore their undying fealty to Ali-Stanley Wamhoff.
Within days of the death of his father, Ali-Samuel’s uncle seemed firmly entrenched as the new monarch of Donegal.
He expected to see a big smile on the new King’s face, but Ali-Stanley grimaced as he leaned over the table.
Ali-Stanley had named Lord Jarryd Lolat as Falconer and top advisor.
Lolat said, “We’ve started planning the funerary proceedings and accompanying tourney. We’ve even received a letter from Mattingly. Duke Jasper Colbert will be in attendance to pay his respects to the fallen Ali-Baster Wamhoff.”
Ali-Stanley let out a painful
scream, “Never.” He paused for a few seconds with his eyes shut. “The man openly defied my father. My father told me that he wanted nothing more than to see that usurper dead. Send a letter and tell him he isn’t welcome. OOOOHHHHH,” the King yelled again and held his stomach.
Lord Jarryd asked, “Everything alright, your highness?”
The King moaned and groaned and seemed in great agony. “I’m fine. Just some belly pains. Don’t worry.”
I’d be very worried if I ate with Tersen. That seems like the fastest way to get killed around here. I didn’t think the albino had the stones for this, even though poison is the weapon of women and the weak. Is Alvyra behind everything?
“Sire, we must bring Mattingly back into the fold. The trading that stopped when Duke Colbert took over is now crippling southern Fox Chapel. We need Mattingly to maintain a successful kingdom,” the Falconer advised.
The King tried to talk but suffered a coughing fit. He cleared his throat but started hacking again and sweating profusely. Ali-Samuel watched the King’s face turn almost purple. He coughed into his hand and opened it for everyone to see. A thick wad of dark blood sat in his palm. Ali-Stanley’s eyes rolled back and his forehead hit the stone table with a thud.
“Get Count Silzeus. Fast,” screamed Ali-Samuel as he jumped out of his seat and rushed over to the King.
It felt like an eternity before the Count rushed in and attended to the King.
The Count said, “We need to get him to bed. Get him to his quarters. I’m going to my chambers to get some wormwood and balm. Ali-Samuel, perhaps you could come with me?”
Four guards worked in conjunction with each other to pick up the sizable King as Ali-Samuel and the Count ran from the room. They got to Count Silzeus’ quarters and he quickly shut the door behind them.
He walked toward a tall pine cabinet with sectioned-out compartments.
The Count talked as he looked through some of the drawers. “He’s been poisoned. Purple hemlock. Same as his father. It carries different signs for each victim. Did you notice the black splotches behind his ears?”
